When I walked out into the mid winter snow, I felt a strange sensation of freedom that only comes with this season. Rather, instead of the world feeling alien, I was the one who felt alien.
I cherished little moments like these, of walking alone under the blue hue and gradients of the sky.
It was a double edged feeling that gripped my heart tightly and often I struggled to prevent tears from escaping my eye ducts, yet on the other hand, was a beauty like no other.
Winter is a strange time, always associated with the worst of worst memories, of people I'll never and have never seen again. It's an association of not being able to let go yet slowly watching everything being stripped away from you, I wish I could bottle up these feelings more but they all become undone during winter.
With that being said, eventually I trudged over to the small market side to purchase bits of mixed berries, onions, ramen cups, shakes and milk. Maybe I'll eat myself to death and hibernate alone like a squirrel.
The hardest part is always walking in front of the clerk and presenting my ugly, hideous form to interact and checkout the goods. Often times I feel their 2 eyes multiply into 6-8, burning into my skin, their grins growing ever sharper as I pass them by. They're scary, I don't like them, I want to cry, humans.
It never lasts forever though, I'm always thankful to finally stumble my way out of the store when the whole ordeal is concluded.
I've Always loved how my footsteps crunched beneath the freezing powder, methodically I would count the amount of footsteps it takes for me to reach the corner of a street and compare the averages of how many steps it took until I made a turn. They usually match up since the geography of the street is consistent
Examining my shadow, I see a distorted, small figure with a single bag on their back, shambling forward drunkenly through the howling snow. Is that me? Hello me.
I awkwardly stumble a bit with the keys whilst trying to open the front door, once I finally pry it open, I drop the bag on the floor and collapse onto the dusty, cool floor.
The crawling shadow on the ceiling moves sporadically to greet me, it's somewhat nice. Though, memories of living with other people come flooding back, no, I don't want to think about that now- please go away.
I slowly pick myself up from the floor, I don't know how much longer the money from the government is going to last, but I'm thankful I got to keep the apartment after all these years. I have decent heating and ventilation, though mostly prefer to keep them off, not due to the souring prices of electricity, but due to comforting feeling of the cold.
I switch on a mix of Russian Post-Punk Rock and Japanese Noise Rock on the speaker system and go to wash off my face, my cold, rotting eyes stare back at me. This interaction lasts for a few minutes, of soullessly gazing into my own eyes. Parts of me don't feel like my own. Are those really my eyes. What a life I've led.
I can't say I miss any of them, those thoughts will only serve to linger and to haunt me for the rest of my ending youth. Another shadow seems to be sitting there comfortably out of the corner of my eye, I can't tell if it's silently judging me or just existing, but I don't mind it.
I begin to change out of my cardigan and skirt into a simple oversized t shirt and jogging shorts. Maybe I should make myself something to eat but I really don't feel like, it's been a long day of existing. I need to get away from it all.
I lay down on the sofa to read for a bit, I have no energy to go on the computer for now. I have no one to look forward to talking to, no one to ask how my day was, it wasn't always like this, but now it's just me and the shadows.
"I truly am the main parasite of this world", with those words being uttered by a voice, presumably my mind, I fall into an indefinite period of sleep.
My bandages are covered in gooey yellows and dark oranges, it looks like fast food oil. I want to vomit. It's over-pouring from the bandage, though in the distance, is you. It's you. No imitations of you, but actually you. I thought I've let go of you already, why do you still haunt me in my dreams?
It feels like the last time we talked was yesterday, though it's been years, what do you want with me? this doesn't feel right.
Suddenly I'm experiencing the old days of my teens, dangling off of my balcony, sleepily at 3am. I haven't done that in a while, those thoughts don't form as much anymore. Yet here I am, a piano sympathy is being gently stroked in the background, accompanied by a few sharp violin strokes. The bass guitar is distorted, not with the typical guitar distortion, but instead it's wobbly and inconsistent with its frequencies.
Why am I here? Why was I ever here, and why do I continue to remain here. These answers won't ever be revealed in my dreams, rather the dreams serve to highlight the last thoughts in my mind, and any over arching dilemmas I face.
Suddenly, I lose my footing and grip and begin descending several stories below, it's way taller than my actual balcony is, but it feels real. I'm falling, through thick layers of cloud, all the while, the yellow street lights below approach more and more. I don't know what to feel, so I feel nothing.
I awake, it's deep into the night now. My back pops and crack heavily, I fell asleep in a really bad position, my t shirt now completely drenched. I turn to look at the giant window that accompanies me every time I sleep, I let out a sigh and open the balcony door.
